When Johnny Came Marching Home by William Heffernan Page A

supposed to be wearing an old Union cap. He knew Johnny and me during the war, and Ed Billingsley said he came by his farm asking where Johnny lived. I wondered if he might have stopped at the store."
    Rebecca thought about it and slowly shook her head just as her stepmother came behind the counter.
    "Who are you asking about, Jubal?" Mary Johnson asked. She was wearing a gingham dress and her hair was pulled back severely, a sharp contrast to Rebecca, whose pale blue dress seemed to make her long, reddish-blond hair all the more striking.
    I repeated the description of Bobby Suggs and thought I saw a hint of alarm come into Mary Johnson's eyes.
    "No, I don't believe I saw anyone like that, but I'll ask Walter, and if he did, I'm sure he'll tell you what he knows."
    "Is Mr. Johnson around now?" I asked.
    "No, he's not. He took the buckboard up to Richmond to pick up some goods that came in on the train."
    "He should be back late this afternoon," Rebecca added quickly, casting a glance at her stepmother.
    "Good. I'll be by then," I said. I turned to go, but Rebecca's words stopped me.
    "I was just going to have my lunch, sort of a picnic down by the river," she said. "Would you care to join me, Jubal? It's just apples and cheddar and a bit of cider, but it's all very good."
    I still had several stops to make in my search for Bobby Suggs, but I took her words as a signal that there was more she wanted to tell me. "I'd like that," I said. "But I can't stay too long. There are several other places I have to stop at today."
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    Rebecca spread a small blanket on a flat rock just above the river and set out her basket. I used my knife to cut up two apples and slice two slabs of cheese, while she poured us cider.
    "You know that Mary was lying to you, don't you?" she said at length. Her voice was harsher than I expected and that surprised me. I knew Rebecca didn't like her stepmother, but her tone bordered on something more.
    "I had a feeling she wasn't telling me everything she could have," I said.
    "She thinks she's a very good liar, that she can fool people quite easily, but she can't. Oh, she fools my father, but it's only because he wants to believe her. But I always know when she's not telling the truth."
    "How is that?" I asked.
    "She has to turn her eyes away from me and that's when I know. And that's what she did to you when you asked her about that Suggs man. As soon as you described him, she knew who he was."
    I'd noticed the same thing. "Why do you think she did that?"
    "I think she's fearful that Johnny told Suggs about their affair, and that when you find Suggs he'll tell you."
    "Still, it would be her word against his," I said. "And he's a shiftless sort, just passing through. When he asked Jesse Barton for some work at the sawmill Jesse wouldn't touch him, and you know what kind of rough characters he's like to hire."
    Rebecca's eyes hardened. "She wouldn't take the chance. Not Mary. She believes in protecting herself at all cost, and she knows she'd be in danger if my father believed what Suggs said. If he did, he might very well throw her out. And then she'd have no place to go, no one to take care of her. When Johnny was alive I think she held out hope that he'd go off with her if they got caught."
    "If she thought that, she didn't know Johnny very well. At least not the man who came back from the war."
    "No, she didn't."
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    I guided my horse Jezebel up Sherman Hollow. Recent rains had left the path rougher than usual, and I took care to keep her well away from the many potholes. By the time I reached Rusty LeRoche's dooryard it was nearing on two o'clock.
    Rusty's daughter Chantal came out of the cabin, her hair tousled, her breasts swaying beneath the thin blouse she wore. She looked up at me and gave me an impish smile. "You come back ta see me, deputy?"
    "I'm afraid not. I'm looking for your daddy."
    "He's out in the woodlot," she said, grinning again. "Don't expect him back till